


Farewell, Chicago

by Measured



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: Last season spoilers.One sight of a girl under an umbrella and Ted throws away his plans of moving to Chicago.
Relationships: Tracy McConnell/Ted Mosby
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Farewell, Chicago

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck the finale, this takes alt finale though technically it isn't to that part yet. [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5toL5HmQl8I) if you didn't see it.
> 
> This got unintentionally meta, lol.
> 
> The youtuber in question that Ted is listening to is Kina Grannis and The Imaginary Future.
> 
> I caught "Simple Song" by The Shins on a trailer and had to figure out what HIMYM scene it was, and this fic astrally projected onto my computer shortly thereafter. 
> 
> Going over the S8 finale reminded me that Ted really was out there ready to abandon everyone and everything for Chicago, then saw Tracy and went "Never mind!" The show kinda laughed it off, but I wanted to revisit that for a moment.

Throughout the wedding, Chicago weighed heavy on his mind. He forced a smile, his thoughts on the gray future and not the streamers and joy around him. It wasn't just leaving his friends--because they were beginning to scatter, their tethers breaking. Marshall and Lily, who had likened them to a certain kind of bromeliad: symbiotic, and unable to live without him had moved out of the apartment. Robin wasn't his roommate any longer, and their friendship was still strained, even now.

And Barney? The worst part was he still looked at Ted with occasional puppy eyes, and the pleading _but **I'm** his best friend. Say I'm your best friend, Ted!_

Which hurt all the more, because at times jealousy had clouded Ted's mind. They'd both loved Robin, but in the end, she chose Barney over and over.

And Ted, being himself, kept falling in love with his exes. He'd been doing it since Karen, and Robin was the worst case of Ex-itis. A term which Barney had coined himself. (True story.)

(Barney swore the cure was to 'sleep with a ton more chicks, trust me.' Ted personally tended towards putting on his Red cowboy boots, which he totally pulled off, Patsy Cline, a pack of beer, and then a marathon of romantic comedies, Neruda and Marquez to read to sleep, all the classics until he could believe in love again.)

It'd been different when he'd thought of sucking it up and moving to Jersey for Stella, even though everyone knew Jersey was basically a level of hell. If Dante had been there, he would've said as much. (Barney had even done a whole monologue about how "his bro Dante listed the level of hell" which went from the purgatory of spotty wifi, to the final level of hell: New Jersey.)

That was for love, and Ted would do anything for love, even play the fool. (He'd played the fool many times. Make that _many, many, many, many_ times.)

Really, he'd done enough, hadn't he? Ted had fucked up a hundred and one times and more, and most of them with Robin. He kept thinking back to that moment in the bar, where he'd been sure he'd found the girl he would marry, then promptly fucked it up.

He was good at that, Ted thought wryly. He's friends were good at letting him know when he did, too.

They comforted him at his worst times, and ensured to mock his red cowboy boots whenever possible.

(Which he totally pulled off, by the way.)

Why was it weddings that brought the worst out of things for him? Ted had planned his own wedding since he was a child (something that Marshall and Lily and Barney and Robin never tired of teasing him about) and yet so many weddings he'd went to had turned out to be disastrous.

Meeting Victoria had been a different kind of disaster, caught between a seemingly hopeless love and a new possibility.

He'd been left at the altar. His friends were his only solace as Stella sailed away with someone else. The person she was always meant to be with, because Ted was just a subplot in her life. 

(Ironic that he was in a romantic comedy, and in the end he was the too perfect fiance left at the altar. Okay, his friends would have roasted him mercilessly for that, and he'd have deserved it. But nobody knew Romcom tropes like Theodore Evelyn Mosby. And he'd cheered drunkenly on as the bride ran down that aisle into the arms of her true love, until it happened to him.)

He'd accidentally helped Victoria escape her wedding, only to find that a disappointing, direct to movie sequel. The kind of sequel people end up disliking so much, they openly pretend it never existed.

That whole year was like that. 

And now, he'd spent three days that felt like a whole season at this wedding, watching his best friend and his other best friend get married.

(Last time that'd happened, Marshall had shaved his head, and had to wear a hat to make it through. He'd looked good, though. Totally pulled it off.)

The rain pelted down as he waited for the train. Her yellow umbrella unfurled, like a bit of sun through the clouds.

And it was that, not the pressure of the old lady beside him. The nostalgia of an old friend, the yellow umbrella he'd lost along the way somewhere. He took a chance, and took a step forward to speak.

(It was only later that he would think that in Japanese culture, to be under an umbrella is a sign of lovers.)

They finished each other's sentences. And when she said _funny how just sometimes, you find things_ ended with a slightly awkward double _hi_ was the first non-drunk time he wanted to get something tattooed on his forearm so he could never forget those words. 

*

The next morning, Ted called to cancel his job, his new life and exile. There wasn't even a second thought.

Barney and Robin were honeymooning, and Barney constantly updated his blog with far too much information. Ted knew there'd be a quiz when Barney got back, but for now, he let it be.

He'd ripped off the wounds of his heart so many times, fallen back in love with Robin as he watched her fall in love with Barney. Over and over and frankly, Ted was _tired_ of this ride. Tired of being in love with Robin hopelessly, tired of ruining everything, tired of being the third wheel. Even more, he was tired of being in the way of everyone--especially his own--happiness.

But, if he went to Chicago, he'd never see Tracy smile again. He had a phone number, and he'd already sent her a youtube video by this incredible indie artist he found via recommended. The duets she did with her husband, another indie artist had literally brought tears to his eyes.

And when they talked until almost 2AM about rare coins, he knew he'd found something special.

Ted felt hope for the first time in a long time.

It was too soon, but that's how he was. Jumping too quick, falling too quick.

At least this time he had to remember not to drop an _I love you_ on the first date.

*

Without Barney there, Ted broke all the rules. The three day rule? He couldn't bring himself to wait. Marshall was busy, and if he texted Barney now, he'd probably accidentally get a dick pic, or a video of a honeymoon which was decidedly not safe for work. Which was basically what he usually got, with drunk accidental texts left his way for the morning for his friends to laugh over.

So, he went through this alone. He hadn't even told Lily he was staying.

He was reminded of the iconic scene in When Harry met Sally, where Harry and Sally talked on the phone all through watching a movie, still connected through it all. He texted with abandon, everything from lines of Neruda, to jokes and funny cat videos he saw online. She texted back. They talked for three hours about Edith Piaf, until his phone ran out of charge. Then he quickly got it to a charger so he could talk more.

If he got carpal tunnel syndrome from texting, it'd be worth it.

He kept thinking _this is real_ only to realize _I've had this exact thought before._

With Robin, Victoria, Karen, and Zoe, and others.

Ted's love life had been messy. If he were to describe it, he might use words like 'labyrinthine.' 

(Lily would call him a douche, and a little bitch for that. Her preferred term for his love life was 'a dumpster fire.')

If Meg Ryan over countless romantic comedies and Florentino Ariza never gave up, then he wouldn't either.

*

The din of MacLarens was all around them. It felt nostalgic, like home. Marshall and Lily already had the tickets on hand, but they were still in New York for a little while longer.

Strange how everything could just gradually change. They used to spend their nights together, down at MacLarens. Now Barney and Robin were on some jetsetting honeymoon, which Barney assured them would be the most awesome honeymoon ever, and Lily and Marshall would soon be in Venice.

Ted peeled his label off his beer. He was already noticing changes. He couldn't drink as much as he'd once done. But Ted was ready to settle down, and had been for years. He had been preparing his dad jokes, like sharpening a weapon. He couldn't wait to be a Home Depot dad, to have a porch to work on, projects to show his kids.

To wake up every morning and give a good morning kiss to the love of his life. To read her Neruda over breakfast, e.e. cummings by lunch, and slip love poems and letters in her inbox at every moment.

He wasn't there yet, but for the first time in a long time, Ted thought he saw the path to that dream.

Marshall's shirt was well worn, faded with love, because it was the shirt he'd met Lily in. Every day he could, he'd pull on that shirt and relive that moment. And while all Ted had on was a cable-knit sweater, he wanted that. He wanted a shirt that he could look at and say "this is the shirt I was wearing when everything changed. This is it."

Past the talk of the weather, and what Barney was doing, Ted cleared his throat.

"This is the girl. This is the one," Ted said.

"You said that about Bacon, Ted."

"For the record, having Bacon for the first time was a life changing experience," Ted said.

Marshall nodded. "I get it," Marshall said. "Bacon is so good, there isn't even enough of a good word to describe how good it is. It's like...super good."

Ted smiled. It sounded like something right out of Barney's wild plans. 

Marshall knew him well enough to hear _this is the one_ many times--multiple times for Robin alone. But, they were so long that Marshall still believed in him through all this time. Even though rooting for Ted's love life was like rooting for the Cubs, the Lions, and the Red Sox--at least during the Curse of the Bambino years. 

He patted Ted on the shoulder. "Okay, buddy. You know I'm always in your corner. What are you going to do about it?"

"Romance her socks off. Literally." 

He tried to not think of all the times that failed. Because love was like taking a step and hoping not to fall off a cliff. All he could do was hope like hell there was a tightrope there and he wouldn't feel the cold ground as he hurtled down. Not so much falling in love as falling into despair. Sometimes both at once. 

"Didn't know you had a foot fetish, dude."

"If Barney were here, he'd say 'don't ask for feet pics on the first date."

"Are you kidding? Barney would say asking for feet pics on the first date is the most important thing, some bro code number whatever," Ted said.

Marshall chuckled at that. "Yeah, probably."

"I think she's my bacon, Marshall," Ted said. The one he'd never knew he needed. Except in this metaphor, his mom hadn't convinced him that he was allergic to her for years.

Marshall lifted up his bottle. "No higher praise."

His phone dinged, and he smiled down at at it.

"What is it, Ted, a lolcat? A meme?"

"No, a text," he said.

"I should've known," Marshall said.

Ted held up the phone so Marshall could see the cute selfie she'd sent him. "She's rereading Love In The Time of Cholera, because she said I reminded her of the way Florentino Ariza never gave up on love."

"As your best friend since forever, I can say you two are completely perfect for each other."

Ted smiled a crooked little smile. He tried not to hope too much, but he already knew he was in deep. 

*

The air was filled with fog, just cool enough for his coat and cable-knit jacket. They'd been texting before the date, like a pregame that just didn't stop and Ted was sure it'd go on long after they'd gone to their separate apartments, too.

Meeting Tracy was like finding that lost part of the group. He could talk to her all night and never run out of things to day. And when he suggested the game to pass the time on the way to the restaurant on a lark, she smiled.

He hadn't played _Have you ever?_ in years. (Technically, Barney tried to get a game going, but had been voted down, because he was unbeatable in the game. No matter how hard they tried, he'd always done everything and everyone.)

"You want to play 'Have You Ever?'" She laughed in a way that made him believe again.

"Sure, why not?"

"I have to admit, your 'have you evers are a bit more wild than mine. Going to lick the liberty bell was sure a plot twist." Technically, most of the time it was his friends who had the wild times, and he was just along for the ride.

Technically, most of the time it was his friends who had the wild times, and he was just along for the ride.

She laughed, and he was caught by her beauty. Enraptured by her smile. She made him understand the beauty of Neruda more, she made him viscerally feel the song _Here Comes The Sun_ by The Beatles, because he'd never felt that more true when he saw that yellow umbrella unfurled out and dared to do the stupiest brave thing: go out and talk to that beautiful girl.

When her hand fit into his, he remember the line from _The Postal Service_ 's amazing song, _Such Great Heights_ that went _I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned  
._ Because everything about them fit, and was so damn easy.

(Also, the Iron and Wine cover of that was amazing. He reminded himself to send her a link later.)

Was it too early to write poetry about her and send a love letter? Like a Greek chorus, he could imagine his friends laughing at this very thought, and then giving him a unanimous _don't do it, Ted. Not yet. Don't blow this._

And weirdly, he agreed. For once he wasn't in a clingy rush to get to the end. He enjoyed every moment with her, even being stuck with traffic and waiting for that light to flash so they could go to another stoop and stop. Even waiting for food, and finding so many tantalizing smells as they watched people who just came in get served before them.

And maybe for the first time, he enjoyed the ride there. He could let go of the frantic rush to the aisle, and just love every moment and the beautiful girl in front of him.

Maybe he could work with her to write a song one day. She'd climb the charts and that'd be something they built together. Technically, Ted hadn't ever written a song since back in college when he and Marshall ate too many sandwiches and decided they would start a band. But then they'd had more sandwiches and forgotten all about it by the end of the week.

As an architect, he knew building. The thought of Ted and her building something sat well with him.

Maybe he'd make a fool out of himself, but that never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't stop him now. He'd taken a thousand and one chances and failed every time, but this time, he had a good feeling it might go right.

The city was alive with lights through the fog and passing cars. They passed many other people, all with stories of their own that Ted would probably never learn. Her yellow umbrella unfurled over them, just in case it rained again.

"Have you ever had Chicago Deep dish pizza?" she said. There was a lift to her voice, teasing, like maybe there was something else underneath. An in-joke he didn't know yet, but soon would find out.

"Chicago?"

He suddenly remembered everything that could've been. In the rush of texts and tweets and suddenly _believing_ again, he'd forgotten all about that. He'd been minutes away from leaving New York, and everything behind. The bar, his friends, the street corners and city he'd come to love so much. He was minutes away from never meeting this incredible woman who collected old pennies, laughed at his bad jokes, and wanted to hear more of his stories. 

Who never seemed to tire of these pennies, or his 'grandma interests' as his friends joked.

"Actually, did I ever tell you about the one with the pizza place?"

"Not yet I haven't," she said.

He smiled. "So, it was during college...Marshall and I...."

And it was _easy_. Everything about them was easy, shockingly so. When he texted her, she laughed at his dad jokes. There was no constant push and pull. No running away, no running after her. Her hand slipped into his as they walked down the streets of New York.

He'd never been more happy to not be in Chicago.


End file.
